


Broken Wings and Golden Crowns

by Lilith_Child



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Blind Lucifer, Blindness, I don't know when this takes place, M/M, Michael Is A Terrible Brother, but meg is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4174485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith_Child/pseuds/Lilith_Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam rules Hell with Lucifer by his side. Dean comes for a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Wings and Golden Crowns

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, and all mistakes are my own.

It took Dean two years, Earth time, to get into Hell. By then, Sam was more than ready for him. He reclined on the leather couch, and waited. Lucifer stood behind him, tense. They didn’t wait in the throne room. This meeting would be far too tension-filled even without the signs of his kingship.

Sam smiled up at Lucifer. “Don’t worry, Luce. Dean can’t do anything to hurt us.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Sam,” Lucifer sniped, with a hint of his old bite in his words. Sam had missed that. Lucifer had been so quiet lately. Sam smirked up at him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to reply. Even after all these centuries, it was still nice to know that someone cared about him.

“Of course I love you, Sam. Why else would have stayed with you these years?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What did we say about reading my mind?” he asked. His tone was light, though. Lucifer never meant anything by it.

“You read mine,” Lucifer pointed out, deadpan.

Sam smiled cheekily up at him. “Yes, but I can’t speak Enochian, now, can I?”

Lucifer frowned. “Lying is a sin, Sam.”

“What’s one more to add to all the others?”

Lucifer was still frowning, though, and Sam propped himself upright. “Lucifer, nothing is going to happen. He’s not Michael,” Sam said, when Lucifer looked unconvinced. He quickly realized that it had been the wrong thing to say when Lucifer’s face went blank.

“Of course. I’m sorry, your Majesty.”

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worrying. But now - after the angel peace treaty disaster and the fighting - it was scary. “Hey, everything is going to be fine,” Sam murmured, standing up. He wound his arms around Lucifer, taking care not to trap his still-healing wings. At first, Lucifer was stiff and distant, but eventually, he softened, relaxing into Sam’s arms. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

Sam dropped his head and pressed a kiss to Lucifer’s neck, just below his collar. “Michael still loves you,” he whispered.

“I know,” Lucifer replied, just as softly.

“He’s just-,” Sam started.

“Putting Father first. He always did.” The bitter tone had returned to Lucifer’s voice, but Sam would take it over the blank emptiness any day.

At that moment, there was a knock on the large wooden doors that lead to their rooms. “Your Majesties, Mr. Winchester is here,” Meg called from the other side of the thick doors.

“Thank you, Meg,” Sam replied. His face showed no trace of the nervousness he felt, but his fingers trembled, and he dug them into Lucifer’s feathers. When he heard the small gasp of pain, he let go, and smoothed the agitated feathers down with his fingers. “You may enter.”

Sam didn’t stop stroking the feathers, but in the ten seconds it took Meg to unlock the door, and the three minutes for Dean to, presumably, gather up the courage to enter, Sam resumed his reclining position on the couch. Lucifer sat beside him, wings sprawled across his chest. Sam could feel the tension radiating from him, and Sam ran his fingers along the edge of the wings, stroking them.

When the door finally swung open, Meg bowed to them, a smirk on her face. After Dean took his first step forward, she left.

“Thank you, Meg!” Sam called after her. She didn’t respond. Then, all thoughts of Meg were driven out of his mind as he focused on the man in front of him. 

Dean had aged. That was his first thought, and he scolded himself for it. Of course Dean was older! It had been two, three years for him. Everyone aged in that time. _Except you, _the little voice in the back of his head whispered. It sounded suspiciously like his father. He ignored it. That little self-depreciating voice in his head hadn’t ever done him any good in his life.__

As Sam snapped back to the room in front of him, he realized that Dean had crossed the room, and now stood in front of the couch. The silence in the room was thick, clogged with the words Sam needed to say, and the ones Dean had screamed at him before he left.

Dean cleared his throat.

“Yes?” Sam asked. He figured that it was as best of an icebreaker as they were going to get for the time being.

“So. You’re the king of Hell, now?” 

They were cutting straight to the chase, then. Well, Sam had never expected anything less than directness from Dean. “I am. They needed a king, I needed a place. It’s mutually beneficial.”

Dean snorted. “Of course it is.” Ah, there was the condescending tone that had been missing. “And what, do they give you all the demon juice to suck that you want?”

Sam’s fingers tightened in Lucifer’s feathers, and he took a deep breath, removing his hand from Lucifer’s wings, gripping tight to Lucifer’s hand instead. “I don’t use that anymore,” he said. Sam was amazed that his voice had come out so steady and so calm, but he supposed that presiding over Hell had given him a certain sort of immunity to fighting.

“Yeah? What about him?” Dean snorted, pointing to Lucifer. 

The angel in question raised his head from Sam’s chest and stared blankly at Dean. Forty years may have been almost nothing to Sam now, but it was still forty years of torture, both receiving and giving. Sam was sure that Dean had seen horrible injuries before, but even he flinched back as he saw the burns on Lucifer’s eyes.

They were still healing, but they would scar. Sam was sure of it. When he had found Lucifer, it had not been a pretty sight. Meg had brought Lucifer to Sam, bleeding and completely unable to see or fly. While his ability to use his wings would - possibly - return in the future, Lucifer would never be able to see again. 

To be honest, with the state Lucifer had been in, Sam was surprised that blindness would be the only permanent injury. He shuddered to think about what Lucifer would have looked like if Meg had found him later, or if one of the others - Crowley or Abaddon’s - had stumbled upon him instead. 

Moving a little closer to Lucifer, Sam replied without looking at his brother. “Lucifer won’t be an issue any longer.”

“And how can you be sure of that?” Dean asked.

Sam hooked his fingers underneath the cool metal of Lucifer’s collar. “This.” It was inscribed with Enochian, some of which was so old that Sam could barely read it. Lucifer had helped to make it. It was the ultimate symbol of trust, letting himself be controlled by Sam, and be so powered down around his former subjects. It had made Sam hesitate. Sometimes, Sam couldn’t help but wonder if this was a very drawn-out method of suicide. To be honest, if it was, it wouldn’t surprise Sam.

Sam realized that Dean was staring at him expectantly, his eyebrows raised. “And…that is what, exactly?” 

“It means he’s mine. He can’t leave, he can’t fight, he can’t do anything without my explicit permission. Like possession, but it’s reversed, now.”

“Well, forgive me, Sammy, but -.”

“You are forgiven,” Sam replied automatically.

“What the hell?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head to clear it. He needed to stay focused in the present, dammit! “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” He’d overseen three trials, and heard nearly four dozen confessions in all. The words had come out automatically. He was too used to being asked for forgiveness, and he was too used to granting it.

“Well, then,” Dean continued. “How do you know he isn’t lying? I mean, you thought the same thing about Ruby, and look how well that turned out.”

Sam could feel his anger rising. “He isn’t like Ruby, Dean. He - as well as everyone else in Hell, in case you were wondering - literally cannot lie to me. I can tell when they try.”

Dean looked like he wanted to argue further, but Sam could feel his anger bubbling in his veins, and he needed to talk to Dean with a level head. He needed to convince him that he was doing good, or at least stop him from killing any of his subjects. “You are welcome to stay in the guest rooms,” he said to Dean, without looking at him. Sam was already walking towards his and Lucifer’s bedroom. “Meg will show you where they are. Come, Lucifer.”

Lucifer walked toward him, his steps confidant and his head held high. Sam noticed that he walked with his wings held inches above the ground. The burns and other various injuries on them were severe, but Sam could see the way Lucifer’s shoulders trembled with the effort of holding their weight up.

When Lucifer reached his side, Sam tangled his fingers in the collar. It wasn’t necessary, but it made him feel better, calmer. Meg had reappeared by the door, and he saw the raised eyebrow she gave him. His face tightened in a frown, and she quickly and quietly led a resisting Dean out of the room.

“Sam!” he heard Dean call behind him.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Dean. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Sammy, seriously?” 

“Tomorrow, Dean!” Sam snapped, raising his voice. The air around him trembled, and he took a deep breath. “Just - we’ll talk tomorrow.” With that, he turned and walked out of the room, Lucifer at his side.

When they made it to their room, and Lucifer sat on the bed while Sam paced agitatedly, Lucifer finally spoke.

“Sam, why are you doing this to yourself?” he sighed.

“He’s my brother. I have to.”

“Sam, I haven’t seen you this angry in months. You need to do something.” When it became clear that Lucifer wasn’t going to receive a response, he sighed. “Come to bed, Sam.” 

Sam hesitated, before finally dropping down onto the bed, rolling over to face Lucifer. Lucifer kissed him slowly and softly, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders. Ah. It was going to be that kind of night.

They stayed awake until early in the morning, just holding each other. At one point, Sam started to cry into Lucifer’s arms without warning. “I’m not a kid,” he whispered. “So why does he still treat me like one?”

Lucifer didn't answer, just kissed him softly. The words hung in the air between them, though. They went unspoken and unacknowledged, but they both knew that they were there. Because he is more like Michael than either of you will ever admit.

Around six o’clock in the morning, or what passed for it in Hell, at least, the news came that Dean had escaped. Sam let him.

Dean couldn’t avoid him forever, but Sam sure as hell would let him try.

**Author's Note:**

> 12/23/15: Edited for minor continuity issues.


End file.
